


Take Me Home - Outtakes

by shesaramblingriot



Series: Chris and Simran's Adventures [2]
Category: Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Actors, Age Difference, Awkward Flirting, Banter, Cuties, Desi Character, Disney World & Disneyland, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gucci Guilty - Freeform, Height Differences, Humor, I hope?, I'm Bad At Tagging, Indian Character, Insecurity, Jealousy, Meddling, Not really though, Older Man/Younger Woman, Outtakes, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Some light angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-10 15:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5591164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesaramblingriot/pseuds/shesaramblingriot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of Chris and Simran. Usually from prompts given on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chris meets Simran

**Author's Note:**

> These chapters will probably be much shorter than normal chapters. Majority of the requests are for previous chapters in the POV of Chris. If anyone has anything, please comment!

When I first met Simran Grover, I didn't give her a second glance. I bumped into her, apologized quickly and went about my business without another look. To be fair, I was on the phone with my agent and wasn't paying much attention.

When I met her, like actually met her, it was a few days later and way too early in the morning.

The Starbucks had been basically empty, save the two baristas working and three girls in the corner. I didn’t pay much mind to them as I ordered my coffee nor did I even notice the smallest of the girls come up to me, tugging on my hand to get my attention.

I inhaled, ready to sign whatever she was going to have me autograph. The girl cleared her throat and looked up at me, “Excuse me, Mr. Captain America, I think you should say sorry to my big sister.”

I let out a surprised laugh and knelt down to the girl’s level. She was an adorable thing with her dark hair in a french braid and her arms crossed, in a yellow sundress and white sandals.

“Hi sweetie, what’s your name?” I tried to think of who her big sister could possibly be and why I would need to apologize to her.

“Maya,” she said, proudly, with a big smile on her face.

“Well, hi, Maya,” I replied. “Who’s your big sister and why do I need to say sorry to her, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She said you spilled coffee on her,” Maya stated, turning back to point directly at the oldest of the three who was conversing with their other sister. She avoided looking over here, not wanting to look at me. But I wanted her to, because she was fucking beautiful.

She was clearly the oldest, but she barely looked older than 18. Her hair was so dark and long, falling down her back and stopping at her hips. Her skin was tanned and she had some makeup on but I knew even without it, she’d look like a fucking dream.

And don’t even get me started on her eyes. Her fucking eyes, man. She looked like she had the night sky in her eyes. If that was the case, then I wanted to stargaze.

I wanted to know her name, I wanted to know her story, I wanted to know her.

“Hmm, well, let’s go ask her,” I said in hopes of having even a moment’s conversation with the woman. When she saw us approach, her eyes widened.

“Sim, tell Captain America what happened!” Maya demanded and I choked back a laugh at her assertiveness. Sim? Was that her full name? Or was it Simone? Simona? Simmons, as a last name? I just wanted her to tell me everything about her.

‘Sim’ stood up and I could tell she was tiny. Barely bigger than the little girl tugging my hand towards her. I was probably a full foot taller than her, maybe even more. I stared down at her for a few moments before I extended my hand out.

“Hi, I’m Chris,” I tried to seem friendly and not weird. “And you are?”

Please, please, please tell me your name. And your number. And when, at your earliest convenience, we can get married.

I knew I was smitten when I saw that cute, nervous look on her face. She obviously recognized me, and I usually steer clear of that but... But that adorable look drew me in to her. 

When she bit her lip and widened her beautiful brown eyes, I swooned. I wanted to kiss her, give her candy, jewelry, flowers, everything. I just wanted her eyes on me forever. 

“I’m Simran. That’s pronounced Sim-rin,” her voice was even more beautiful than I thought even when the words were being said in a clipped manner. She hesitantly extended her own hand to shake mine. I raised my eyebrows at the tone but kept smiling.

“So what’s this about me spilling coffee on you?” I asked, putting the hand that wasn’t being held by Maya in my pocket. I’d reach out and touch her if I didn’t check myself. The other girl let out a laugh and couldn’t stop. I nodded and kept the smile in place. “I don’t believe we’ve ever even met.”

Because I seriously would’ve remembered you, Simran.

Biting her lip, she told me how I’d bumped into her, made her spill iced coffee on herself, and walked off like the fucking rude meatball I was. I immediately apologized but she seemed annoyed and I didn’t want that.

She gave curt replies and tried to play everything off. I was amused by her and intrigued too. I just needed to make things better for her, I felt bad and also, I wanted to talk to her some more.

“Let me make it up to you,” I protested. “What are you drinking? I can get you a refill.”

I think she felt awkward and I felt horrible that she did. I wanted her to smile at me, laugh with me, or something. She refused and looked at the little girl next to me, “Maya, are you finished?”

“But you said you’d give him a piece of your mind,” she cheekily replied. The other girl behind Simran lost it, laughing and clutching her stomach. Simran’s eyes widened and I could see the faint color on her cheeks.

“Yeah, let me hear it,” I raised my eyebrows but ducked my head, trying to hide the smile on my face. She just looked adorable.

Simran was flustered at this point, hissing a “shut up” to the laughing girl behind her and after a few moments, even ended up leaving the Starbucks. I told the girls to wait there and jogged after her.

I held her car door open, feeling like a pathetic, desperate idiot as I insisted she come back inside. I offered to sit with her and buy her something off the menu. She hesitated before finally breaking. I felt a little disheartened when she said “The girls would love that but… I-I guess.”

We walked back in quickly and I saw that the other sister had grabbed my previous order, so I flashed her a smile and thumbs up to show my gratitude. My brows furrowed as I looked at the bakery. “Wait, what did you want?”

“Are you even allowed to eat sweets on that Captain America diet?” she said, her eyes perusing the desserts. I glanced back at her, pausing and raising my eyebrows.

“I’m not, but I can look,” I laughed. So, she wasn’t really asking for an autograph or my number? Did she not like Captain America? Or did she just not like me? More often than not, if someone knew who I was, they wanted to get everything they possibly could from me.

“Cheesecake brownie, then,” she nodded surely before adding, “Please.”

I ordered the cheesecake brownie, which sounded heavenly, and an 8-grain roll, which wasn’t so heavenly, because I had to go to a meeting with my publicist and then straight to the gym after that.

I rubbed my chin, looking at that fucking brownie. Simran really had some nice food choices because that looked so good. I hated being on a diet.

“I’ll let you have some,” she mumbled and I almost didn’t catch it. When I realized what she said, I smirked.

“You’re gonna have me cheat on my diet? What do I tell my nutritionist? And my trainer?”

“Oh, they’ll get over it,” she said in an almost teasing way, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at me. “You need brownies to get through life.”

What a cutie. I chuckled, “Well, it’s not like me to disagree with a pretty lady.”

She averted her eyes and I wondered if I said something wrong.

We got our food and, to play it safe, I sat next to Maya but across from Simran. I loved kids, I really did. Maya and I were hitting it off instantly and I wanted it to be that way with Simran too.

Maya slid me over a napkin and asked me to give her an autograph. I happily did so, fishing a pen out of my jean pocket. I put a hand over what I was writing, getting the bright idea to give them my number. I wanted to have at least tried to contact her again and it didn’t seem appropriate to ask for her number when she was acting so… Flustered.

Hopefully Simran didn’t leak it or something. She didn’t seem the type.

I kept whispering in Maya’s ear, telling her jokes and asking to make sure not to show Simran the napkin until after I left. She giggled and nodded eagerly, agreeing with my plan.

The other sister, who introduced herself as Archie, tried to embarrass Simran and talked about the posters she had on her wall. I shared a laugh with Maya as Simran checked her sister’s shoulder.

“Oh really, like who?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.

Archie said a long list of actors, I whistled at Chris Hemsworth because c’mon guys, he’s the sexiest man alive. I’m not even the only one who thinks so, People magazine said so too.

Simran shut Archie up and Maya asked if I could come to see her on her birthday. I felt bad because I’d only met them today and it just wasn’t a possibility. I made up a bullshit excuse, saying I could if I didn’t have a mission.

She shot me a thankful look as she pushed the brownie towards me. I bit into it and moaned comically. To be fair, it was the first dessert I’d had in at least two months so the moan wasn’t too far off.

We talked for a while, all four of us, before I finally felt the need to ask, “How old are you guys?”

Because if Simran was really 18, I would need to go turn myself in to the police. It may be legal but it’s still a little weird. People probably would think I was going through a midlife crisis already.

She was 22, Archie said, and that wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good either, but what did I expect? She didn’t look a day over 20 at the most. So I could be thankful the age difference was eleven years and not fifteen.

Maya poked me in the cheek, “How old are you?”

“I’m 33,” I said, laughing shortly.

“Wow, so you’re like a lot of years older than all of us,” Maya said with wonder.

My mouth twisted into a grimace. “Not a lot. It’s not that bad. I still look young, right?”

Archie whistled as Maya nodded. Simran just averted her eyes and sipped her drink. I almost begged her to talk to me but I realized it was going nowhere.

“Well I think I’m gonna go,” I said suddenly, saying some excuse about my meeting that wasn’t for another hour. I couldn’t push her. I’d taken away enough of her and her sisters’ morning.

Simran raised an eyebrow and stood up as I did. “Well, it was a, uh, pleasure to meet you.”

I smiled as sincerely as I possibly could, looking into her beautiful eyes. I pursed my lips and said, “Yeah, it was great meeting you guys.”

Simran smiled softly. It seemed almost unintentional and I needed to leave right now if I didn’t want to ruin this meeting by kissing her unexpectedly. I really wanted to kiss her.

I winked at Maya, putting my hand up to my face in the form a telephone, “Call me.” before swiftly walking away. I couldn’t possibly kiss her, that’d be stupid. I’d be acting like a fucking idiot and she’d hate me.

I really, really wanted to see her again. It wasn't the thrill of the chase, it wasn't wanting what I couldn't have. Something about her just made me feel light. Like I was on a cloud. I wanted to feel like that all the time.

Oh well, she had my number now. If fate wanted us together, we’d see each other again.


	2. Chris talks about Simran (a lot)

I had a problem with talking about Simran too much. 

I mean, I called my mom about her the day I met her. I didn’t have much to say when my mom asked me who she was or anything. I didn’t even know anything about her other than her first name and her age.

But she sure was something.

I told my mom that she made me feel like I was in Boston again. That was obviously complete bullshit because I was in shitty LA, almost three thousand miles away from my favorite place in the world. But Simran did make me feel like that. I met her once, well twice but not really, and she made me feel light and giddy. 

Now, I’m a romantic. I believe in love at first sight and instant clicks and serendipity and all that Rom-Com shit. Simran was what I’d been waiting for when I hadn’t even realized I’d been waiting for something. 

I believed in fate. Yeah, I was a firm believer that being in the present moment was the most pivotal time and that was what I stood by. But I could believe in being present and believe fate was real at the same time. 

I especially believed in fate when I saw her for the second (third? No, we’re sticking with the first meeting being what I like to call The Cheesecake Brownie Incident) time. 

Simran hadn’t texted me at all and believe me, I was fucking heartbroken over it. But then I received a message from an unknown number claiming to be Archie. Her sisters, thank God for them, meddled and sent me her number. I thought to myself that if I wasn’t supposed to get her number, I wouldn’t have.

Fate wanted me to have her number. So, I did what fate probably wanted me to do and sent her a text. Or three.

It was my luck, the good kind, that made it so that I saw her that same day. At the interview for the new face of Gucci Guilty, I spotted her and felt my heart fucking soar. Seriously guys, it was like I was seeing a goddamn angel. 

She looked shocked to see me, but not unhappy. I was over the goddamn moon after seeing her. She even checked me out, though many people did when I was in the middle of trying to be Captain America. I never really understood why, because I was honestly not much to look at. Steve Rogers was a lot bigger than I ever could be and a lot better as a man too.

I digressed, though.

I smirked at her when I noticed her staring, but her eyes just widened considerably. Soon, so I didn’t feel or seem creepy, I looked back at Percy. He was still going on about the audition and blah blah blah and I didn’t care. I just wanted to talk to Simran.

When she finally got her chance to audition, I joked with her and asked her about my text. Hopefully I wasn’t being annoying but I felt like the universe kept pushing us together. It was an exciting idea, that things were working in a way for us to meet again and again.

She did amazingly and she even smacked me in the face. Honestly, I thought it was hilarious and perfect for the scene. When I saw her sleeping in her car outside the studio though, I got worried. 

I had been waiting for my town car after having a long meeting with the casting directors. Mona and Percy had agreed that Simran seemed the best choice for Gucci Guilty but Mike, though he was only an assistant and had little effect on the decision, said he liked Marnie. She was nice, but Simran and I had chemistry and everyone agreed with that.

Percy dismissed the meeting, saying we would have another in a week. I didn’t understand why we didn’t just make the decision now, it was clear Simran was the one to pick.

I knocked on her window, hoping to wake her up and stupidly tried to open the car door. It’d obviously been locked but I was eager to talk to her again, so I made myself look like a fucking idiot. She let me in though and once I sat in the passenger seat, I racked my brain for something to say.

I cleared my throat before glancing at her through my eyelashes, “Hey.”

That was stupid as fuck. You fucking dumbass.

But I forgot everything when she sighed, turning towards me. Her lip was bleeding, not profusely or anything, but I wanted to make sure she was okay. I interrupted whatever she was about to say, “Oh my god, are you okay? Your lips, the bottom one is bleeding.”

Simran shrugged it off, leaning over the backseat to grab some tissues (apparently something some people keep in their car? Or maybe just her? Either way, she was cute). She revealed that it was something she did when she got nervous, biting her lips so much they bled. Something new to know about her.

We talked for a while, about my fuck-up during AOU press and music and how old she was. I didn’t want to stop but when she pointed my car out, I had to leave. I reminded her to text me, feeling like a jackass. But my need for her to talk to me outweighed my fear of being an asshole.

I didn’t get her the job for Gucci Guilty, Percy and Mona had been convinced enough just by her acting. But I did know way earlier than she did, because I was there at the meeting when it was decided. 

I sent her a text before my flight to Germany because my agent told me Percy had told her the decision. I was sitting next to Daniel Bruhl, a man I didn’t really know but thought I could talk to for a bit. I was always friendly and he was a co-star, so we had to play nice.

“Who are you texting?” Daniel asked me after a few minutes of small talk. “I’m nosy, I know.”

This is where the problem with me talking about Simran really came up. I kept getting off track, sorry guys.

“Simran,” I said with no real explanation of who she was. I tried to think of what to say to her and decided to joke with her since she’d been joking with me.

“Beautiful name.”

“Beautiful woman.” 

“What’s she look like?” He asked curiously and a surge of possessiveness went through me. I don’t know why it did, considering she wasn’t mine. I mean, I wanted her to be, but you know.

I couldn’t stop saying whatever came to mind about her, “She’s got these eyes, man. Like, they’re dark and beautiful and God— I love them. And her hair, she has super fucking long black hair. She’s so small, too, she makes me look huge next to her. She’s only five feet tall,” I told him, remembering what her portfolio said and then sighing as I thought of the day of the audition. “She busts my chops and she bites her lip and she’s so adorable when she’s sleeping.”

“She’s really got you wrapped around her finger, huh?” he joked and I felt my cheeks heat up. 

“Maybe, but I like it,” I nodded, removing my baseball cap to scratch my forehead as I read the next text. “Hey, she knows you from Inglourious Basterds.” 

I got a bright idea, which obviously wasn’t actually that great of an idea, and Daniel agreed to it. We sent her a video and I cut it off before he said how much I talked about her. I sent it quickly before I was told to put my phone on airplane mode.

“She’s not your girlfriend?” Daniel seemed surprised. 

“Well, no but maybe soon,” I shrugged and grinned.

The next time I talked about Simran, it was with Scott. To be fair, he started it.

“Dude, who’s this girl you’ve been telling Mom about?” he asked me the next time he came over. “She told me you haven’t shut up about her even though you don’t give much detail.”

“Paraphrasing?” I raised an eyebrow at him as I poured us some coffee.

“Maybe,” he grinned as he sat at my counter. 

“She’s gonna be with me for Gucci,” I shrugged, trying to bite my tongue so I didn’t talk about her too much.

“And she’s cute?”

“She’s adorable, man,” I heaved a sigh, sitting next to him and handing him a mug. 

“You like her?”

I probably shouldn’t like someone so young for me, but…

“Yeah,” my voice went up a pitch higher and Scott noticed immediately.

“What’s with the ‘yeah’?” he asked, side-eyeing me.

“She’s young, like more than a decade younger than me.”

“Chris, oh my god, you pervert. How old is she? Is she even legal?”

“Yes, she’s 22!”

“Oh, well,” Scott sighed, relieved. “I mean, it’s not ideal. What’s that rule again? Your age divided by two and add seven?”

“That rule sucks,” I insisted.

“You only think it sucks because she’s too young for you,” he chortled, sipping his coffee.

“Man, she’s perfect.”

“You don’t even know her well enough to say that!” 

“I know enough, Scott.”

“Chris, I know you believe in love at first sight and all,” he started and I shook my head, staring at my cup.

“No, dude, seriously. You’ve gotta meet her,” I said eagerly.

“What’s her name?” Scott rolled his eyes, taking another drink.

“Simran — she’s pretty and tiny and funny,” I replied immediately. 

“She’s Indian?” he raised an eyebrow curiously. “You’ve never been with an Indian girl before. I mean, other than that one girl in grade school. But that probably doesn’t count.”

“Shut up, Scott,” I rolled my eyes as I tried not to laugh. “Don’t make it weird. I’ve been texting her and she’s awesome, like honestly.”

“Well, what do you know about her?” he asked, finishing off his coffee. I’d barely even touched mine so far.

“I know she has two sisters that she’s the legal guardian of,” I offered all the information I knew. It still wasn’t much. “I know she wants to be an actress. That’s about it though. We mostly just send each other pictures of dogs right now.”

“Didn’t you want some normal girl?” Scott pushed. “Last time I checked, you didn’t want an actress. You wanted some girl from Boston or whatever.”

“Well, it’s not— It’s not like that. Maybe that’s what I wanted, at first,” I shrugged, trying to formulate my response. “But she… You just gotta meet her. She likes dogs and makes fun of me a lot.”

“Eh, she already sounds perfect,” he laughed, his face breaking into a grin. “I’m just fuckin’ with ya. You two are consenting adults and yeah, the age thing might be a little weird, but whatever. You seem happy. How long have you guys been dating?”

My smile fell a bit, “Oh, uhh, we aren’t dating… Yet.”

“Christopher Robert, are you telling me you haven’t at least fucked the girl yet?” 

“I haven’t!” 

“You fucking dork, how many times have you guys even seen each other?”

“Three times,” I smiled, recalling the memories. “I’m gonna see her again in September.”

“September?!” Scott exclaimed. “It’s July!”

“Yeah, I know,” I wrinkled my nose. “I miss her.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “You sound pathetic and desperate.”

“Desperate for her,” I sassed back, taking the first sip of my now cold coffee.

Other than Scott and my mom and Daniel, I tried not to tell a lot of people about her. I mean, it didn’t work. I told anyone who’d listen. 

Scarlett said she liked her from what I said and to snatch her up as soon as possible. I’d even told Robert Downey Jr., who nodded along for a few minutes before making an excuse to leave. Sebastian just laughed and told me not to screw up.

I’d try my best not to fuck it up.


	3. Sim and Chris at the Gucci Guilty party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sim's POV, her and Chris at the party before the events of Chapter 20.

My eyes went straight to the champagne and I let go of Chris’ arm, but his hand shot out for me. “What?”

“We should… stay together,” he muttered, gently grasping my forearm. “Our publicists said to stay close anyway.”

“That’s true,” I nodded. “But I want some fucking champagne, so let’s go.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled, “Sim, do not get drunk.”

“I know that!”

“Good,” He followed me to the tray of champagne and I handed him one before downing half of my own. He shot me a look. “No more than the one, so make it count.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” I stuck my tongue out but knew I’d listen to him regardless. There was a lot of reporters and publicity here tonight, I needed to look good for the cameras.

My publicist told me that Chris and I were supposed to add fuel a small dating rumor that had first shown up on social media. Ever since the ad had gone out, people were mainly commenting on our chemistry together.

This obviously was going to help with press for my new movie and Civil War. “Win-win situation” was what his agent told us. It was show business with a friend. Well, a friend I want to sleep with.

“I’m your date tonight, we gotta make each other look good,” Chris murmured in my ear and I gave a confirming noise, similar to an “Eh, I guess.” response. He was so close and I was so vulnerable. He barely even had to do anything to make me want to fuck him.

“Those reporters certainly want to talk to you,” I motioned towards the group of men and women with microphones and Chris stiffened. I bit my lip and looked at his face, trying to see what he was feeling.

“Can you… Can you stay close?”

“Of course, Christopher. You’ll have to do the same for me, though.”

He let out an exhale and relaxed a bit more, “You know I will, Simran.”

I stayed a good distance away from the group as Chris approached, but I could still hear everything being said. They asked him about his Marvel contract, the new movie he was supposedly directing, and I didn’t pay close attention until they asked who I was.

Not that I was conceited or anything.

“And who is your date?”

“Well, she’s my counterpart for Gucci Guilty,” Chris stated matter-of-factly before gesturing me towards him. I walked over awkwardly and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “This is my Simran.”

My Simran? Good God, I was going to melt into a puddle.

“Simran Grover, the new face of Gucci,” one of the people with a microphone said knowingly.

I nodded and smiled politely, finishing my champagne as the questions were hurled at me.

“Do you have a new movie coming out as well?”

Duh, that’s what I’m gonna end up promoting all tonight.

“Who are you wearing?”

Shit, I can’t remember. Some name I can barely pronounce.

“What’s it like kissing Captain America?”

Ooh, so very nice.

“Diet plan? Workout routine?”

Diet plan? Any food. Workout routine? When I feel like it.

“Do you speak English or do you only speak Indian?”

Indian isn’t a language, you dumbass reporter.

We talked to the press for maybe half an hour before being escorted into the other room where the actual party was happening. Well, if you could call it a party. It was low-key, but in a boring way. Walking around, both of us talked to basically everyone at the party. Chris had his arm wrapped around me the whole time and didn’t move it for a second.

“You did so well,” he told me, shaking me back and forth as we made our way to an empty table. I’d expressed my worries about seeming too awkward but his presence had actually helped.

How ironic when before, it was him who made me act uncomfortably awkward. Now, he was the one calming me down. Strange.

“So did you!”

We laughed together before Chris looked around. “I really hate these things.”

“Do you? They do seem a little boring,” I agreed, biting my lip.

“We can leave early,” he told me before adding hesitantly, “If you want.”

“How early are we allowed to leave?” I asked, my eyes widening.

“Well, it’s 8:30 right now,” he looked at his phone before smiling at me. “What do you say we leave at 9, get some Thai and chill at my house for a while?”

“Only if I pay for the food,” I replied, raising my eyebrow. Chris rolled his eyes at my insistence. I felt bad having him pay for things all the time, even if he was rich. Like seriously rich. Like raking in millions of dollar rich. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

“We can split it. I have beer and Coke at home,” he said, grinning happily as I nodded in agreement.


	4. Chris during Gucci Guilty shooting

I was nervous.

I was really fucking nervous. My palms were sweaty and I was shaking just slightly, hopefully not too noticeably. I felt like I was going in for an audition. Hell, I felt like I was auditioning for Captain America again. Now that was a horrifying feeling.

In reality, I was just getting ready to go to the Gucci Guilty shoot. To see Simran. I’d been texting her for months now. She was everything I thought she’d be and more. 

She loved all things Disney, her favorite movie was Mulan and she could horribly belt out (her words, not mine! Though, even if she couldn’t sing, she was still an angel) I’ll Make a Man Out of You on command. I wanted to witness the beauty and I told her that. She just told me to shut up.

She watched a lot of movies. A lot. She watched YouTube videos and interviews with casts for most movies and enjoyed it. I asked her if she’d seen any of my individual interviews (like my one for Details magazine or any of the Gucci ones) and she actually told me no, that she focused on “the important shit, for the movies.” I thought that was interesting.

I always thought that if you wanted to know what kind of person someone is, you just asked if they prefer cats (ew) or dogs (yay). It was simple, to me. I could proudly say Simran loved dogs. All dogs. Even chihuahuas, the worst dogs ever that were basically as bad as fucking cats. Like, seriously, they’re fucking annoying. Anyway.

Sim was thoughtful, never complained when I abruptly stopped texting her. She was eager to ask questions, but didn’t dig too deep into my professional life. Sure, she’d poke fun at the Marvel movies and was polite when I mentioned other projects, but it was never expected that I talk about work. I’d actually bring it up more than she ever did, come to think of it.

You know how hot smart chicks are? Well, Sim was intelligent as fuck, honest to God. Hell of a lot fucking smarter than she let on for anyone to believe. She went to college and yeah, I know all that shit about how going to college doesn’t make you better or superior. But this girl graduated from University of California — Los Angeles summa cum laude (she had to tell me what that meant, but when she did, holy shit), so she was pretty fucking fantastic. 

She was also a caretaker. Sim told me about how her friends and her watched over her siblings, but I could never even wrap my head around that. She was so young and while she had admitted herself that she wasn’t a very responsible person, I could see that she was. What irresponsible person would take custody (or guardianship, or whatever? I don’t know those details and frankly, she sounded like she didn’t even know either) of their siblings fresh out of college? 

I knew a lot about the girls (the cutest girls who I could never repay for helping me stay in contact with Sim) but it was a little hard for her to open up about her childhood and parents. I could tell she was holding back most of the information. But she told me little tidbits and I paid close attention, knowing how rare it was hear them. 

(Text message from Simran: Lol so once, I pushed an older boy off the swings at school because he told me my mom’s bindi looked dumb)

(Text message from Simran: My dad and mom always fought. They hated each other most of the time. They refused to divorce though, I think it was a cultural stigma. :/) 

(Text message from Simran: When I was twelve, I got teased for having thick eyebrows so I shaved off the ends of them. I have photographic proof wanna see lmao)

What random other things did I know about her? She hated marshmallows in her hot cocoa. She thought it was weird that she put on her left foot’s sock first because she was a righty. Her favorite season was spring because she loved the blooming flowers. 

See… Texting was easy, I could talk a big game when I wasn’t face-to-face with her. But being in front of her? Seeing her and being able to just reach out and touch her? Not that I would. I already felt like a creep and that’d just hit the nail on the coffin.

So, as I said before, I was fucking nervous.

I got to the studio and met with everyone, going to hair and makeup as smoothly as possible. Got my scruff taken care of, my hair gelled back, and my clothes handed to me. A black v-neck sweater, dark jeans and black boots. 

Thank God for simple clothes. I’d gotten a new appreciation for them after having to wear different variations of the goddamn Cap suit. Sure, women (and men) thought it was hot, but at what cost? I would sweat and chafe and it’d be a bitch to put on and take off. No thanks.

After I got done with all those shenanigans, I went in search of food because I’d forgotten to eat this morning. May as well get that in before seeing Sim, right? Wrong. Apparently Simran had the same idea because I caught her making eyes at the food table.

I came up next to her but she didn’t move, apparently not noticing me. God, it was awkward already. Great start, Chris, how long have you been doing this flirting again? 

Clearing my throat, she finally looked up at me. I took the time to take in how beautiful she looked — her face simple and elegant, apart from the lines on her eyelids that I had no idea what to think of. I mean, it looked good and as an actor I knew the basics of makeup, but what the fuck were the dark lines on her eye really doing there? Whatever, man, she looked good.

“It looks good, huh?” Despite the smirk on my face, I was talking about the food, I swear.

Simran turned away from me, agreeing, “Hell yeah it does.”

“You look good too,” I added, noting the slightest flush of color on her cheeks. It was so slight, I almost wrote it off as part of her makeup. Without too long of a pause, she looked back with a sly grin.

“Thanks. You’re lookin’ alright, I guess,” she teased. “But when are you ever going to wear a shirt that actually fits?”

My smile faded and I glanced down. Did she know about that secret trick that guys used to make themselves look bigger? Did she know my secret weapon? Tight shirts? Smediums were my best friend in the looks department. Steve Rogers wore only them and now, so did Chris.

“This fits!” I insisted, the smile coming back as I thought of how much shit she was going to give me over the week. 

“Just because you can squeeze yourself into it doesn’t mean it actually fits, Christopher!” 

Christopher? I thought it would only be a texting thing. God, I was suddenly reminded of my mom. I certainly didn’t want that.

“Look who’s talking!” I winked at her. Realizing I may be objectifying her, I started to feel a little bad. All my mother’s old talks and speeches about how to respect a woman were coming back to mind. “And, might I add, my mother calls me Christopher less often than you do.”

We bantered, back and forth, just teasing each other. Well, actually it was flirting, if I was being adventurous with my wording. Literally, I couldn’t stop winking at her. It was like I was twitching and I kept telling myself, “CHRIS, STOP BEING SO SEXUAL” in my head.

She called me out on it, telling me to stop, and I decided to play it up instead as I told her, “Why? We’re already going to be doing some suggestive things here. May as well get into character, am I right?”

After being called to places, she told me to shut up and grabbed a water. I had to slip in another suggestive remark, I don’t know why. I couldn’t help it, she did weird things to me without even trying! Thank God she didn’t sue me for sexual harassment or something. 

I called after her retreating form, “Yeah, you’re gonna need that water when we’re done!”

She stuck her tongue out at me in response and skipped off. I did my best not to stare at her ass as she left.

Let’s just say my best wasn’t good enough. 

——————

This stupid fucking bar scene was taking so long. Yeah, kissing in front of the camera for the first time was nerve-wracking as all hell, but dragging this shit out made it so much worse. I almost wanted to punch the director in the face before realizing that literally wouldn’t help with the situation. So, I settled for just listening and doing what I was told. 

Patience was a virtue, I guess. (Fucking bullshit.)

And it was. On the seventh or eighth take, we were finally given the green light to kiss. Finally. I hadn’t felt this fucking nervous since I’d gotten my first blowjob from Suzie Lapner in the costume room on opening night for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

Inappropriate, but whatever. It seriously was true. Sim made me more nervous than my first sexual experience and a high school play show night. Combined. Maybe I’d tell her that one day, if it wasn’t creepy. 

It would probably be creepy.

She was nervous too, I could tell. Her teeth didn’t leave her bottom lip and her dark eyes were darting around anxiously in between takes. I had to give her props though — immediately when it was time to be in character, she shifted from Super Scared Simran to Super Sexy Simran. 

The director calling for “Action!” pulled me from my thoughts and I instantly tried to clear my mind. Walking into the bar, I stood at the bar and pointed at Sim’s back, gesturing for a drink to be given to her. Once the drink was given to her, she turned to send me an appraising look. I returned her stare with smolder, laying it on extra heavy since we were about to finally fucking kiss.

She stood up, sauntering towards me in a relaxed stroll. I held my breath until she got to where I was standing, looking up at me and biting her lip. I couldn’t tell if she did it on purpose or not. Did she know how beautiful she was? I hoped so. I wished I could tell her. 

Before I could think too much on it, I realized I needed to pick her up and place her on the counter in front of me. As I did so, her tiny hands gripped my shoulders and I wrapped her legs around my waist. I threaded my hands lightly in her hair, bringing her beautiful lips towards mine.

I tried not to seem eager, but I was. I was so fucking eager.

Our noses touched first and she already felt so soft, nearing melting into me as our lips melded together. She made the smallest of sounds in the back of throat but I was fairly sure she didn’t realize as she moved her hands from my shoulders to my chest. 

I hoped to God that she couldn’t feel how fast my heart was racing at this moment. It felt like it was going 100 miles per hour, beating against her small hands. She shifted closer to me, sighing into the kiss as my hands traveled from her hair down to her back. 

Breaking away from the kiss, Sim took a breath as I ran my lips down her jawline and over to her neck. I couldn’t resist trying to see how far I could take it before the director would tell us to get rougher. I knew that while this kiss, this first kiss of ours, had been amazing, it wasn’t what the ad needed. 

The director said so right when I was pressing my lips down her chin. Damn it.

I moved away instantly, trying to give her the space she needed. I didn’t know if I had taken it too far with the jaw kissing but I knew she needed some air to breathe away from me. I avoided her eyes as she cleared her throat, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping any boundaries by being too close with her afterwards. 

But I couldn’t not look at her face for too long, so I glanced back up and smiled comfortingly at her unsure, beautiful face. Or, at least, I hoped it was comforting. She brightened up in an instant and I felt light-headed from how gorgeous she was.

She was going to kill me with smiles like that.

The rest of the day went by quickly, way too quickly. Our kisses were becoming my favorite thing in the world, the second best thing was her smiling at me. Third best thing was when she’d rub these little circles on my chest when we cracked jokes in between takes.

I caught Sim before she left, saying a hasty goodbye to the director and telling him I’d see him tomorrow. She set down the water bottle she was drinking as I approached her and asked, “Hey, how do you feel?”

Stupid question, but I wanted to make sure we were alright. This was one of her first big gigs, she’d only done some modeling and an unaired TV show pilot. She gave me a small smile.

“I’m good, what about you?” she reassured me. 

I’m so glad you’re good. I want you to be perfectly happy all the time. What about me? Oh, I’m over the moon. Thanks for letting me kiss you. Do you know how fucking cute you are? Just wondering.

I didn’t say any of that, of course.

“I’m fine, first days are a bit hectic,” I replied, looking around at the busy room. Clearing my throat, I glanced back down at her, “You all ready to go?”

A flicker of self-conscious doubt crossed her face as she looked down at her outfit. “Yeah?” 

There was no reason for her to be self-conscious. She was beautiful. She had on a flannel that way too big for her with tight leggings (or maybe just dark jeans? I don’t fucking know) and Converse. She hadn’t fixed her hair or taken off her makeup yet but she looked like she was ready to get out of here.

I thought over what to say next, if I should bring up the question ‘Are we okay?’ or not. I ran a hand over my scruff and smiled to myself, thinking of what she’d say to that. ‘Christopher, you idiot, I’m fine.’ maybe? I hoped to God she wouldn’t say something like, ’I’m good, but you’re a bad kisser.’ Or perhaps she’d get stutter-y and endearingly awkward? I decided to bite the bullet and ask.

“You don’t feel awkward right?”

“Huh?”

I inwardly cringed at how oddly I’d phrased the question. Trying to clarify, I said, “You know, like with us? Like with me?”

“Wait, what? Li-like with us? Like, each other? Nah, I’m fine. Kissing you was fine. That wasn’t weird or anything,” she rambled nervously. ”Not that you’re a weird kisser. I just mean we’re all good. We’re bros, right? Like-- we’re cool. Haha, whatever.”

So, she ended up being stutter-y and endearingly awkward. So adorable. I sent her an amused smile and nodded. “Bros? I like that. We’re gonna be awesome bros.”

Dear God, I really hoped she didn’t actually think of me as a bro. I hoped it was just nervous ramblings or something. I called Chris Pratt a bro. I called Scott a bro. I called my friends back in Boston bro. I didn’t want her to be my bro, I wanted her to be my girlfriend.

——————

They’d made the schedule horribly, I’ll admit that. It was partially because they’d accommodated to me. Before We Go was premiering and I had press interviews for it. But Labor Day being this weekend also affected it. I was supposed to meet with Minka this weekend, actually. But that was to talk about for another time.

Sim and I talked before going on set, I greeted her with a hug and she felt warm and small in my arms. She asked about my tattoo and ogled at my chest. I couldn’t say much about it, since I ogled hers as well. That shirt really didn’t do much to hide her cleavage and I wasn’t complaining. 

We’d done the scene that day at least fifteen times and every time Sim and I kissed felt… Amazing. I’d have said magical but then I’d be making it sound weird. She made fun of me for thinking cinnamon gum was spicy (Who even had cinnamon flavored gum? Gross.) and we flirted. It was nice, it was cute. I wanted more but I didn’t know if she did.

We ended up nailing the scene and I said as much, pumping my fist in the air and helping Sim get down from the counter. She fixed her skirt a little distractedly as I started to speak, “You know, you do this really cute thing…”

I didn’t know if I was pushing any boundaries but I wanted to try and see how she reacted to some more flirting. I needed to test the waters. 

“What?” she mumbled as she adjusted her blouse. She started to walk away and I followed, trying to make sure she listened. 

“You have this like breathy, moan you do,” I said, smiling as I recalled our kisses. They felt perfect and I wanted her to make that noise again. Maybe even more noises, if I was lucky. I trailed off, feigning innocence, “Is that an acting thing or…?”

“Jesus, shut the fuck up,” she laughed nervously as she grabbed an extra water bottle from the food table, shaking her head. “Just—Shut up.”

“It’s not, is it?” I asked, in a singsong voice. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m gonna kick your ass if you keep talking, Christopher,” she warned, my pointer finger pushing against my chest. 

“Yeah, real scary,” I teased as my hand wrapped around her small wrist. “With these baby fists of yours?”

“Goddamn it, Chris, just shut up,” she scoffed but there was a small smile on her face. I know I had a huge grin on mine. 

She walked off, probably going to change and get ready for home. I did the same, changing quickly and grabbing my bag before coming back to the same spot to wait for her. I didn’t get a good read on that situation, she kept telling me to shut up but she was clearly amused. 

I sighed deeply to myself, looking through my phone to distract myself. Minka had texted me while I was shooting, she asked, “We still on for this weekend?” I rolled my eyes and confirmed that we were. She knew we were, she was just looking for a reason to text me.

I glanced back up at the sound of Sim’s door and grinned, seeing her come out. She looked stunning, she’d removed her makeup and put her hair in a bun. Her Converse made another appearance and she wore cotton shorts with a (ugh) Superman shirt. 

Dramatically clutching my hand to my heart, I gestured towards her shirt. “You wound me!”

She smirked, shrugging at me, “Oh well. Cap’s cool but…”

“You know I met Cavill a while back, at the BAFTAs. He’s an alright guy, I guess,” I stated, rubbing the back of my neck. “We drank some champagne together and I presented an award with him. Dude does have a nice beard though.”

“What? You’re trying to impress me or something, Evans?” She laughed. Fuck, she was calling me out. I loved that about her. “Because it is impressive. That man is fucking sex on legs. Henry Cavill could so get it.”

“Get what?” I sputtered, surprised at the admission. 

She laughed and shrugged again, winking at me, “You know what.”

“Oh man, you are something else,” I shook my head at her, trying not to think of Simran and Henry Cavill getting it. Fuck Henry Cavill. I tried not to think of Sim and anyone getting it. Unless it was me. Why couldn’t I get it? 

“What?! He could!”

“It’s the British accent, isn’t it?”

“…Maybe.”

“Predictable,” I teased, rolling my eyes.

“What can I say? Tall, blue eyed men with accents get me going.” she shrugged, walking towards the exit.

“You know, I have an accent since I’m from Boston,” I called after her, jogging to catch up. “And I’m tall and I have blue eyes.”

It wasn’t too much of a stretch.

“But you don’t get me going,” she giggled, holding the door open for me. 

Was she giving me shit or was she serious? Was I not attractive to her? Did I do something over the months of texting to turn her off? She seemed to like me, I thought…

“Ah, now you’ve really wounded me,” I pouted, kind of meaning it this time. I dug my keys out of my pocket, ready to walk to my car and wallow in there. 

“Sorry, bro,” she stuck her tongue out and grabbed her own car keys. “What’s your movie’s name again? Maybe I’ll catch it this weekend!”

“Oh God, maybe you shouldn’t,” I sighed as we walked to our cars. I waved her off with a small smile. “I feel like you’d give me shit for it. You bust my balls about everything.”

“Nah, you’re just too sensitive,” she mocked, going in the direction of her car. I just laughed. 

“Nah, you’re just a jerk,” I countered.

“Have a good weekend, old man!” she called.

Maybe I was just that to her, an old man. Maybe I wasn’t someone she was attracted to. Or maybe I hadn’t met her expectations as the guy she’d seen in interviews. I don’t know. Maybe I just wasn’t what she wanted. All I knew was that she was what I wanted.

I thought about this the whole ride home. I thought about it through the press interviews, unsuccessfully trying to distract myself and failing. I thought about it through the premiere and even when seeing Minka. We had sex and walked her dogs, and yes I still thought of my situation with Simran during all of this. 

Now, I liked Minka. She was a good friend and I liked sleeping with her, to be honest. 

Minka was easy, you know what I mean? I could see a future with her. If I tried kinda hard... I could see marriage and a few kids with her. Probably not divorce. Well, hopefully not. It would be easy to be with her and it wasn't a bad idea. 

With Sim, it would be hard. She gave no indication of liking me, she liked me as a friend. She’d even called me a bro, now that I’d thought about it. A bro wasn’t someone you wanted to fuck or date or marry or have kids with. I wasn’t even close to having kids with Sim.

Scott said I settled whenever I felt high pressure. Totally unrelated. (Not.)

But Sim was young. And she had her whole life ahead of her. I was old. And my biological clock was ticking. Like really fucking loud. I doubt she was thinking of marriage or kids right now, despite how much I was. 

And I knew what everyone was gonna say to me if I told them that. “Oh Chris, my beautiful idiot son. I know I've been pushing you for grand babies but that doesn't mean you HAVE TO settle down right now.” Okay, so I admit, I mainly just knew what my ma would say.

Still though, being with Sim was a bad idea. And she obviously didn’t want to be with me. So, friends. Or, bros I guess. I don’t know. Whatever. 

——————

Coming back on Tuesday, I was anxious to see Simran again. I wondered if she’d seen the tabloids and made her own assumptions and I felt a little bad for hoping she was jealous. But if she was, that could mean she liked me. If she wasn’t, then I’d just have to get over her. 

When I saw her on set, she looked different this time. Her hair was curled the same but she had a white dress that framed her curves perfectly. The heels she had on scared me a bit, she looked like she could fall over any second. Her lips were painted a dark red and she was scowling. 

Why was she scowling?

I hugged her and she barely wrapped her arms around me to hug me back. I looked down at her, worried, as I rested my hands on her dainty shoulders. “You okay? Bad weekend or something?”

I sure as hell had a bad weekend, so. 

“Yeah, it’s just been a long one,” she sighed, avoiding my eyes. She forced a smile on her face, “Did you get a new dog?”

I dropped my hands from her shoulders and placed them on my hips as I mulled over her question. “What?”

“You were walking a dog yesterday, right? It’s like on a lot of gossip websites for some reason.”

Where did this—Oh. Oh yeah.

I lit up on the inside. Maybe she was bringing it up because she was jealous! I didn’t want to make her jealous or hurt her on purpose but if she liked me… Then, that was the best news of the decade. 

I replied, “Oh, that’s not my dog! That’s Minka’s!”

“Oh cool!” she nodded along. 

“Yeah, I should get a dog though,” I said, thinking of all the dogs Sim and I could own. Together. If she wanted. Whatever she wanted, she’d get. I glanced back at her, grinning, “You look great again, by the way.”

She snorted before almost bitterly saying, “Yeah, right. Thanks.”

“No, seriously!” I disagreed, resting my hand on her shoulder as I tried to look her in the eye. I didn’t want her to be doubtful of her beauty. “You know I’m serious, right?” 

She laughed a bit breathlessly and shook her head, “Just shut up, Christopher.”

I frowned, “Please tell me you know I’m serious.” She shushed me and I went on, “I don’t get it. You’re a model, you’re on your way to being an actress. You know you’re good-looking, right?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, telling me quietly. “You know this industry is really good at tearing down self esteem.” 

“Yeah but—” I started to disagree and she groaned. 

“My forehead is too small and my neck isn’t long enough,” she snapped. “I have wide hips and my ass is oddly shaped. My eyes are a boring brown, my hair is too long but my legs aren’t long enough, obviously. Oh and can I get my skin lightened?”

My heart broke for her. I wanted to wrap her in a blanket and pull her into my arms. I wanted to cuddle her and kiss her and tell her how smart and beautiful and talented she was. I wanted her to know this stuff for herself and not because some idiot, me included, thought so. I wanted her to believe she was amazing and gorgeous.

I swallowed, “Look, Simran—“

“I’ve grown a thicker skin, don’t worry about it,” she cut me off, cringing. 

“I know you’ve heard this a million times but,” I said slowly. making sure she wouldn’t interrupt me again “Everyone gets told bullshit that isn’t true. Trust me, not one thing you just said is true.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t just brush it off,” I frowned, telling her in finality, “Now, go grab some food before we get on set.”

She sighed, grabbing some mini cheeseburgers and grumbling about how tired she was. She was adorable even if she was pissed.

I felt the tension in the car, knowing what we had to do but feeling bad because Sim was probably mad at me. Or, at least, aggravated with me. Not to mention, we were making out from the get go of this scene. 

Speaking of the making out. It was hot. I mean, anytime we made out was hot. But this time, she'd pulled my hair and that was a major turn-on of mine. She couldn’t have possibly known but Jesus Christ, it was good. We were basically having sex with clothes on, she’d even dragged her lipstick all over my jaw and neck. Best part of the day: I got to squeeze her glorious ass. Over and over again, every take. 

Today’s memories, along with last week’s, were filed into the spank bank. Not that I’d ever say that out loud to Sim. Or anyone, for that matter.

Unfortunately, at the end of the day, I didn’t have a chance to talk to Sim. I waited for her, but she had her headphones in and didn’t answer when I called her name. I didn’t know if she heard me, but I still felt my heart break.

I felt horrible. I shouldn’t have taken it personally or let it affect me the way it did, but I was human. And I really, really liked her. 

——————

The next day, I brushed it off. I did the same as yesterday, coming up casually and hugging her. I had hoped she’d forgiven me and when her arms wrapped around me with normal strength, a heavy weight lifted off my chest. Our first fight and our first make-up all in the span of 24 hours. Where was the make-up sex? Kidding, kidding. 

For the rest of the day, I made jokes with her, flirting the same amount as before and making sure she laughed extra hard for the times we’d missed out on yesterday. 

I teased her about needing to wear a Cap shirt when we wrapped up for the day — she had came out with a Hulk one on. I wanted her in my clothes. Not that Cap was really my clothing… But I wanted her with something that was me. I was Cap, technically. If not, I’d give her a flannel of mine or some shit. I knew it was some territorial nonsense, but I wanted it. 

I called her honey. I just let it slip out and then tried to play it off. I know, people called each other pet names all the time. It could be considered a casual thing. But I didn’t want it to be a casual thing, I wanted to call her all the gushy, love-dovey names I could think of and have her do the same to me. 

“So, I forgot to tell you earlier but there’s going to be a wrap party,” I started, finally working up the courage to bring it up as she unlocked her car. “Well, not officially but I rented this small club out for it on Saturday. The crew and all my friends are invited. Seeing as you’re my friend…”

Real nice going, Chris. You’re so fucking good at this shit. Not. Where did you get your flirting skills from? You’re acting like the skinny, crooked teeth Chris that you used to be!

“Oh, we’re friends now?” she joked. If only you wanted more, Simran. 

I cleared my throat and came closer to her, tugging on a loose curl. “Well, seeing as you said, we’re bros.”

Please, tell me otherwise. Tell me you want to be more than friends. I was trying to beg her with my eyes but keep a nonchalant grin on my face. I was an actor, I could school my expression and still convey emotions with my eyes. Hopefully well enough for her to see.

“Ha ha. Hmm, let me think about it,” she replied, apparently not even thinking twice about my comment. “Thanks for inviting me.”

My breath caught in my throat but I just said, “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it is. Get your ears checked, old man.” and then she got in her car and drove off. I waved her goodbye and started walking to my own car. 

Either Sim was the most oblivious person ever or she just didn’t want to be more than friends. 

——————

Naked photoshoots with Simran Grover were going to be the death of me.

I’d been in the industry long enough to realize these shoots were technical and boring and not at all hot. That being said, she made it hot. I think it was because I was so attracted to her but Jesus fucking Christ, I couldn’t handle being with her like this.

When Sim came out in that tiny silk robe that barely covered her ass, I couldn’t tell you how I really felt. I just felt like I was stuck in the desert and she was a tall glass of water. Well, not tall, since she was a foot shorter than me. But hey, actually, a five foot glass of water is a lot of fucking water. So, I take that back.

But when she took off that robe and got in the bed… Oh my God. My mouth went dry and I tried to think of things to get my mind off of her body. I couldn’t have a boner right now, it’d be too mortifying. I had to think of the most non-arousing things.

Church with my family. Press tours. Mom’s lasagna. Tom Brady.

Okay… Tom Brady gave me a little bit of a sports boner. I’d admit it. But not right now. No boners were allowed to happen. Not at all!

“Chris, you okay?” Sim asked, her eyebrows furrowing slightly as she gave me a worried look. I smiled and nodded. “You gonna get in the bed anytime soon or…?”

“Oh yeah, just got distracted,” I nodded again as she shifted closer to the middle of the bed and allowed room for me. We settled in, my chest pressed against her naked back, and I needed my heart to stop beating so damn fast against her. My head was laying on the crook of her neck as we faced the camera together. 

I did my best to remain calm, making sure I seemed at ease. The photographer instructed us on what to do but I hesitated. My hands brushed up her bare hip and I had to make sure she was okay, so I asked, “You good with this?”

Her breath hitched but she nodded, so I held her more confidently against me and grabbed a fist full of her long, beautiful hair in my other hand. She spoke again, her voice a little shaky, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She was probably nervous about this shoot, so I tried to lighten her tension. I stuck with being casual, “You’re really fucking warm, like a heater.”

I loved it.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment, it’s cool!” I tried to defend myself, a small smile on my face. I rubbed her hip bone, not wanting to get lost in the feeling her body against mine but also trying to cherish these few days of being in such close proximity with her. 

“Uh-huh,” was all she said, but she sounded more relaxed than before so I went on.

“You’re really stiff,” I whispered, running my nose against her ear to maintain the sensual image we had to have for the cameras. And just because I wanted to. 

“This is the first time I’ve done a basically naked photoshoot. It’s just weird, I guess.”

“Eh, you’re doing good, kid,” I rumbled. I almost smacked myself once the words came out of my mouth. Kid? Really? Yeah, Chris, call the girl you have a crush on a kid. That’s great. That’s fucking fantastic. That’s not creepy or gross at all. Fucking jackass.

The next thing I knew, Sim was leaning back against me even more and a photographer was telling me to kiss her neck. If things got anymore intimate, I’d need to be carried out on a stretcher. 

… They got more intimate real quick. I decided I absolutely needed to be carried out on that stretcher and taken to the nearest hospital. 

Simran was straddling me and it felt reminiscent of way too many wet dreams (more than I’d like to admit) I’d had over the past few months. I couldn’t stop myself from being half-hard underneath her, feeling her close to me and so fucking warm. So perfect.

She seemed to be lighter than earlier, giggling at me, “You okay down there?”

I rolled my eyes with a smile, but I felt like I was dying in the best way possible. Someone needed to get that stretcher.

——————

The last day of shooting, I realized I didn’t need a stretcher anymore. I was already dead. 

To put it bluntly, I got to hold her boobs. In my hands. I got to hold them in my hands. Holy fucking shit. I felt like a teenage boy getting to touch his first pair again.

They were warm and soft, perfectly fitting in my palms and the weight of them was marvelous. I was gentle, way better than 10th Grade Chris who couldn’t stop honking the first boobs he ever got his slimy hands on.

I mean, I probably fucked up by asking her bra size but I was curious. “What size are you? 32D?”

I didn’t remember what was said in her file but that size sounded right. I’d had a fair share of boobs come along in my life and I knew a little bit about the sizing. It was almost purely a guess and probably a little bit of luck. Or maybe I subconsciously remembered it from the file. 

“Christopher,” she admonished, but she wasn’t angry. She just seemed amused albeit a little surprised. 

“I’m right, huh?” I asked, running my lips against the curve of her shoulder. I wanted to fuck her right on this bed — in front of everyone, I didn’t care. But I also wanted to take her out to dinner and the movies and get a puppy together.

Fuck. Life was complicated.

She didn’t answer as we looked at the camera but I pressed on, jiggling her breasts only slightly, “Come on, tell me if I guessed right.”

“Exactly how many breasts have you held, Christopher?”

I almost snickered. “Don’t ask a question in response to my own question.”

“Why not?” she countered. 

“Don’t ask another one! Jesus!”

“Tell me!”

“Tell me first, pleeeeeaaaaaase,” I teased in her ear. All she did was nod slightly and I asked for verification, “Wait, is that a yes you’ll tell me or a yes to me being right?”

She giggled but recovered quickly, “You decide.”

Oh, God, she was adorable. “I’m deciding I’m right.”

“Whatever you say, Evans, whatever you say.”

“Oh come on, no fair,” I whined, my nose running down the side of her neck. She gulped and I was glad to have a little bit of an effect on her. I murmured, smiling in her ear, “You gotta gimme a straight answer.”

“Duh, of course you’re right,” she replied, sighing and loosening up a bit. Victory! “You are such a fuckboy.”

Wait. “What?!” 

“You know, a guy who just thinks about sex. I mean, asking about a girl’s bra size,” she taunted back. “Not a gentleman at all.”

“I’ll have you know I’m completely a gentleman,” I said, my voice lowering dangerously. I knew she was teasing but I couldn’t have her thinking I was a fuckboy. Whatever the hell new insult that was. My lips moved to sensitive spot behind her ear and she shivered as I whispered, “I promise.”

“Aw, how cute,” she mocked me and I laughed, knowing she was steering away from sexy conversation. She did that a lot and I tried to respect her silent wishes. “Adorable.”

“I know I am,” I replied. “Now stop giving me so much shit.”

“You love it.” I really did love it, but I wanted to know how she really felt. It was possible that this was telling me how she really felt. But I sure as hell didn’t understand. She could hate me for all I knew. Hell, she probably did. 

I smiled in reply, pressing the lightest of kisses against the hair at her temple. “Maybe.”

I was hoping that maybe one day Simran would let me know how she felt.


	5. Sim gets taken care of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small apology for how long it's taking me to get things going in TMH.

I knew it took some time getting used to. And damn, was it really taking time.

Chris was my friend. Seriously, he was my friend. Just my friend.

Yeah, I had some not very PG thoughts about him. Wait, I mean, they weren’t even PG-13... R-rated, maybe? Okay, so I had some NC-17 thoughts about Chris. Could anyone blame me? No!

So, where was I? Right, he was my friend… but he was also my fuck buddy. Hence, the Not Rated thoughts I had about him. And that was okay, I think. I hoped it was okay. Because we had sex and we also hung out on the regular. It had to be okay. But it was hard to decide where the line was. The line between “we’re hanging out as friends” and “we’re hanging out as a way to have sex” was barely there. Like today, for example.

Today was a school day but Maya was sick. With the flu. On top of that, I woke up to my period. And I was in a lot of pain. And probably sick, too. Chris was supposed to come over (still didn’t know how we were supposed to be hanging out but now that I was on my period, it was going to have to be a friend thing) and he’d be here any minute.

And by any minute, I meant right now judging from the jiggling of the doorknob. Chris let himself in most days, we had an unspoken agreement that the spare key was basically his key. He whistled a cheery tune as he walked in before spotting me in the living room.

I was laying on the couch, hunched over in pain underneath the heated blanket he’d given me. Most people’s cramps were tolerable but mine… Even after birth control helped regulate me, I still felt intense pain.

“Sim, are you okay?” he asked at normal volume but I still held a finger to my lips, indicating he needed to be quieter. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “What’s wrong?”

“Maya’s sleeping, she’s got the flu,” I told him, shifting to sit up as best I could. He knelt down on his knees beside me, keeping me at near eye level. “She sleeps through literally anything but I don’t want to take chances on a cranky Maya.”

“I’ll check on her in a minute,” Chris nodded resolutely, before raising an eyebrow at me. “And what about you? You sick, too?”

“I don’t know but I’m surfing the crimson wave,” I admitted, waiting for him to realize what I meant and slowly walk back out the door. His face shifted into a blank stare before he laughed quietly into the arm of the couch. “Don’t laugh at me, asshole! I’m in pain!”

He sobered up and nodded, looking around the room with purpose. “You lay there for a bit and try to relax. What hurts for you both?”

“Maya’s got a fever and a sore throat,” I supplied. He glared at me and I sighed, “I just have cramps in my back and abdomen.” 

“Okay, and did you get some medication for the two of you?”

“I gave Maya some Ibuprofen and made her drink a lot of water before she knocked out.”

“And for you?” Chris pushed, sounding more concerned every time I ignored myself in his questions. He gave me a look that said he wasn’t buying my shit.

I buried myself in the heated blanket a little more, bringing it up to my nose and mumbled, “I’m just gonna lay here and hope it goes away soon.”

“Sim, at least take some Midol!”

“I took some like five hours ago. How do you even know what Midol is?!” 

“I have two sisters and I’ve been in long-term relationships, you know,” he informed me, rolling his eyes. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Coulda fooled me,” I stuck my tongue out at him and he smiled, standing back up and walking towards Maya’s room. I assumed he would just check on her and then leave quickly, there was no reason for him to be here with me now that we could barely hang out and we certainly weren’t having sex.

Chris came back moments later as I was scrolling through my Twitter feed. He took a quick look at me and then walked into the kitchen, “I’m gonna make you some chai. That helps with cramps, I heard. I read it in an article once.”

I got off the couch and followed him, furrowing my brows at his actions. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Why—What are you doing? You can go back home, I can handle things.”

“Sim, I wanna help,” He was fishing through my cabinet, trying to find the specific pot I used to make tea. I watched him curiously, seeing the muscles of his back bulge slightly as he moved. 

“You don’t need to, though,” I insisted, still confused as to why he was staying. “I’m sorry we can’t… Do things.”

“Do things?” Chris repeated as he placed the pot on the stovetop and turned back to me with a scowl. “You do realize that we were friends before we had sex, right? And being friends means helping them, even if they can’t have sex.” 

“Deja vu,” I mumbled, pushing my glasses up to my forehead and rubbing my eyes to avoid his gaze. I probably looked like a fucking wreck. My hair wasn’t brushed, in the worst messy pony tail known to man, and I was in a Wonder Woman T-shirt with cupcake PJ shorts. 

“Yeah, deja vu,” he repeated my words back to me once again. “Because we’ve had this conversation before. You need to understand that I don’t just want sex. Do you really think that lowly of me?”

I sputtered, feeling horrible, “No! Of course not, I-I just… I don’t know.”

“Well, stop, Sim. It’s gonna piss me off and…”

“And I won’t like you when you’re angry?” I raised my eyebrows, trying to say the phrase with a straight face. Chris’ tense demeanor stopped instantly and he shook his head, a small smile gracing his features. 

“You’re such a dork,” he eased passed me to get the ingredients in the pantry, pointing a finger at me in warning. “I’m serious though. If you keep thinking like this, maybe it’s better we don’t do this.”

“We’re gonna keep doing this,” I scoffed before recovering. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“You need to stop doing that, too,” he sighed as he retrieved what was necessary and placed it on the counter. He gently grabbed my hand and tugged me towards him. Hugging me carefully, as if not to break me, he rested his chin on top of my head. 

“Jesus, I’m the one on my period and you’re getting emotional,” I tried to make light of the situation (read: avoid the situation) and Chris huffed out a laugh.

“Shaddup. I’m taking care of you and Maya today,” he murmured into my hair. “Now, take some Midol and lay down for a bit. I’ll make some chai and something light for you both to eat. When Maya wakes up, we’ll watch The Office.”

“Is that show appropriate for a six year old?”

“She’s almost seven.”

“True.”

“You cuss around her all the time anyway.”

“Okay, you got me. Sounds like a plan,” I nodded against his hard chest, relinquishing some control to him. Only some. I was letting him do this, for now. “Don’t fuck up the chai and don’t experiment with spices!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he kissed the top of my head before nudging me out of the kitchen. I resumed my hunched over position on the couch after I swallowed down the pills and drank a glass of water under Chris’ watchful eyes. 

Apparently I fell asleep because I woke up to Maya’s giggles and slight coughs. I didn’t even remember her coming out of her room and I certainly didn’t register the smell of chai before now. I slowly trudged back into the kitchen, peeking in to see what was happening.

“No, no, no, put more sugar in it,” Maya directed him. She was sitting on the counter top as Chris stirred my tea. My cramps weren’t so bad right now, thank God. “Sim likes lots of sugar.”

“Thanks for telling me, sweetie,” he said. “She’s crazy.”

“She is!” she agreed happily. 

“I heard you guys were talking shit,” I smirked, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Finish your bagel,” Chris told Maya before smiling back at me. “I made you one, too.”

He helped Maya down from the counter and handed her plate to her. Then, he grabbed my plate and mug and motioned for me to follow him out. I watched as Maya sat down at the dining table, munching on her bagel with cream cheese and seeming a lot less sick than she was this morning.

“I told Maya if she was good, we could watch Hercules with her,” he murmured in my ear, probably trying to explain why she was in such a good mood. “We can watch The Office when she gets back to bed again. She’s gonna end up falling asleep after the movie anyway.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, biting my lip as I realized how much Chris really helped out. 

“It’s not a problem,” he firmly responded, rubbing my back soothingly. “What time does Archie come home?”

“Shit, she needs to be picked up in like twenty minutes,” I said, glancing at my phone for the time. “Fuck, okay, I gotta get ready.”

“No, I’ll go pick her up! You eat your bagel and we can all watch TV together when I get back,” he was already moving, eager to help me even more than he already had. He grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch and started to put it on. He’d came with me to pick up the girls a few times before, but I’d never sent him to do so on his own.

“Chris,” My breath caught in my throat as he looked at me, worried. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Hey, it’s my pleasure, honestly,” he told me. Taking his keys out of his pocket, he looked at Maya meaningfully before leaving, “Be good.”

When Archie was back with Chris, she was in a much better mood than usual as well. She sat down at the dinner table as I stood next to him. “Chris met some of my friends and took pictures with them! I’m gonna be the coolest girl at school tomorrow.”

Shit. Of course he was stopped for pictures. I knew he got anxious whenever he was recognized. I felt like garbage for making him go. I looked up at him questioningly, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you’d be—“

“Oh no, I did it willingly,” he nodded, placing his arm around my shoulder and pressing me against him gently. “There weren’t too many people crowding me so, I was fine.”

“You— You do way too much,” I sighed, relaxing into his body. “How are you taking my stress away, little by little?”

“I’m your friend, I’m supposed to help you with everything I can,” Chris replied surely. “Now, let’s watch Hercules with our girls.”


End file.
